


Thirst

by CrazyJanaCat



Series: Harrymort One-shots [20]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vampire, Alternate Universe - Voldemort Wins, Blood Drinking, Character Death, Dehumanization, Gags, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Imprisonment, M/M, Sexual Slavery, Vampire Harry, Vampire Potters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-11
Updated: 2017-12-11
Packaged: 2019-02-13 13:23:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,709
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12984945
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CrazyJanaCat/pseuds/CrazyJanaCat
Summary: It was the winter of 1978 when Voldemort first saw the creature. He was visiting the Peverell Citadel to meet with the three Elders to talk about an alliance. The young, male vampire he met there, barely more than a fledgling, really, was absolutely stunning.It made him want.And what Lord Voldemort wanted, Lord Voldemort got. That was simply how the world worked.





	Thirst

**Author's Note:**

> Another one-shot! This one has been laying in my documents for a while now and I figured I could just as well post it. Hope you like it.
> 
> Peverell – 3000 BC – 1600 AC  
> Antioch son of Peverell – 1209 BC – 31/10/1981  
> Cadmus son of Peverell – 1011 BC – 31/10/1981  
> Ignotus son of Peverell – 514 BC – 31/10/1981  
> Charlus Peverell – 21/02/921– 31/10/1981  
> Jameson Peverell – 27/03/1060 – 31/10/1981  
> Harrison Peverell – 31/07/1580
> 
> Not sure why this would be important. It's just that I figured I could add their ages since I did write them down.

It was the winter of 1978 when Voldemort first saw the creature. He was visiting the Peverell Citadel to meet with the three Elders to talk about an alliance in the war he was waging against the Light. The vampires would surely realize how profitable this would be for them and join his cause, just as the werewolves had already done.

The young, male vampire, barely more than a fledgling, really, was absolutely stunning. Its skin was like flawless porcelain, unblemished and undoubtedly soft to the touch. It contrasted perfectly with its windblown, raven black hair. Its cheekbones were high and aristocratic, with a small, straight nose and full pale pink lips. Its limbs long like that of a new born colt, lithe and strong. But the most stunning part of it had to be its bright, ethereal green eyes.

The being was small, only reaching to Voldemort’s collarbone when he’d run into it. Those beautiful killing curse coloured eyes had looked up at him in mirth and curiosity and it had apologized hurriedly, its tone a soft tenor and his words melodic.

Their meeting had only been short, as the young vampire had run off again as soon as it had made sure Voldemort was alright. The reason of his hurry came running after it shortly after. It was another vampire, seemingly a few years older than the first, but it looked a lot like the other. However, its equally dark hair was messier and its skin a shade darker, though still unnaturally white, as all vampires. It was also a fair bit taller and its shoulders were broader. Most of all, its eyes were a soft golden brown, which were glittering with mischievous glee.

The suddenness of the meeting and the shock had left the Dark Lord unable to act before the two creatures were once again gone from sight. If not, he’d have made sure to punish the being for failing to show the proper respect a great wizard like himself demanded from such lower beings as vampires. No matter the beauty of this specimen, it should know its place.

.              .              .              .              .

The meeting was a complete waste of time.

The Peverells weren’t interested in joining his cause, causing the Dark Lord to storm out angrily. Did they not see this was for their own good?! No one denied Lord Voldemort and got away with it! No one! They would pay for their decision.

He was on his way through the grand foyer of the Citadel when he heard it. The most beautiful, tinkling laughter to have ever caressed his ears. Curious, he crept towards a slightly ajar side-door. As he peeked in, he found three young vampires sitting together, all with the same mop of messy black hair and similar faces. The oldest one, dark bedhead with pale golden-brown eyes, a strong jaw and a wide smile filled with pearly white teeth, two pointy incisors poking over its thin pale lips, sat in a chair, talking to a younger male who had his arm slung over the third.

Voldemort recognized these two. They had been the ones he’d seen before. The tallest of the two, he realized, was almost identical to the one sitting on the red leather armchair. The youngest and smallest one, the one with the enchanting green eyes, threw its head back and laughed again. Voldemort sucked in a shocked breath. This being, this beautiful, amazing, immortal boy, was the one that created such a wonderful sound like the tinkling of golden bells.

It made him **_want_**.

And what Lord Voldemort wanted, Lord Voldemort got. That was simply how the world worked.

.              .              .              .              .

It took him three years of negotiating with more allies and focussing on his plans for the British Ministry of Magic, but once he was at the height of his power, he decided to punish the vampires for refusing him, and to take the pretty little immortal for himself. It was the least he deserved as repayment for its disrespect and that of its family.

Greyback and his wolves were all too happy to assist, having a long-standing rivalry with the Peverell Clan and the werewolves’ general hatred towards the blood-sucking creatures of the night. He rounded up his strongest Pack-members, a good three dozen of them, while Voldemort brought along fifty of his best Death Eaters.

It may have come across as overkill against enemy numbers of barely twenty, but this were vampires they were speaking of. In fact, the Peverell brothers were all well over two thousand years old. Voldemort had looked into the entire family, and found that the three young ones he’d seen were the sons of Ignotus, the youngest of the Elders. Ignotus himself had been born some five hundred years before Christ, and its oldest, Charlus, was born in the early nine hundreds, followed by Jameson, who was a little over a hundred years younger, and Harrison being the youngest, being born well over five hundred years later than its middle brother. The runt of the family.

Beautiful little Harrison, who had the looks of a man not even fully out of his teens, with the palest skin the Dark Lord had ever seen, and the brightest eyes that put even stars to shame.

They were especially captivating when shining with unshed tears as it begged for the lives of its family. The Dark Lord idly wondered how they would look clouded with pain, or darkened with lust, but banished the thought as he ordered his followers to execute the remaining Peverells right in front of their youngest member.

Harrison wailed in agony, and its eyes dimmed for a moment. In that moment, Voldemort almost regretted making the little vampire watch the cruel scene, but as those green eyes focussed on him through their tears, they lit again, now with hatred and fury he’d never before seen on any man or woman’s face. It was even more enchanting than its laughter had been.

“Monster!” the vampire shrieked as the headless bodies of its two brothers were burned by a group of celebrating and howling werewolves that had taken over the ruins of the once beautiful citadel.

Bellatrix hissed in fury, and backhanded the immortal being harshly in defence of her Lord and Master before brandishing her wand.

“How dare you, you filthy half-breed!” she seethed. “Crucio!”

The beautiful creature curled up in itself as the pain assaulted it. Just like its laughter, the screams that left the being’s mouth were high and melodic, as if it were singing a song of pain. The Dark Lord was highly tempted to let his dear Bella continue the torture, but decided against it. The vampire now belonged to him, and only he would allow it to feel either pain or pleasure.

“That’s enough,” he commanded softly, his voice barely more than a whisper, but still every single one in the room had heard it and froze.

For a few seconds, all that could be heard was the small vampire’s harsh breaths.

“The half-breed is mine. You will not lay a finger on it,” he told his most loyal sternly.

“I’m no one’s slave, wizard,” the vampire growled lowly, its smooth voice croaky and hoarse from its earlier screaming. “Least of all yours. I will gladly embrace death before I will be owned by a monstrous beast like you!”

It spat a glob of blood at the Dark Lord’s feet, making many of his followers gasp in horror and shout out obscenities to the creature. The Dark Lord himself scowled and strode forward. He buried his hand deep in the silky soft tresses of the small vampire’s raven black hair and pulled its head back.

“You dare call me a monster, little vampire?” he asked in a deceptively calm tone. “You wear the face of a beautiful man to hide the mindless, bloodthirsty beast underneath.”

“I have never needlessly killed!” the creature hissed, its green, green eyes shooting the killing curse at the Dark Lord without success.

“Neither have I,” Voldemort replied, a cold smile on his lipless mouth. “Your family slighted me. They were a thread to the Revolution and had to be taken out.”

The vampire snarled at that, showing off its unnaturally sharp fangs that marred his otherwise perfectly straight, white teeth. Not a single blemish could be found anywhere on the creature as part of its disguise.

Vampires were the perfect predators, even greater than werewolves. Their beauty and allure was nearly equal to that of Veela, easily drawing people in with their beauty and charm. Aside from that, they were unnaturally fast and strong and had a natural resistance to magic similar to that of werewolves. Their wounds healed ten times faster than that of wizards, twice as fast as werewolves, and they could only be killed either with fire, beheading or a stake through the heart. Their allergy of the sun and garlic would only slow them down, not incapacitate them.

Next to that, they had their own type of magic, like Shadow walking, had naturally powerful occlumency shields and had a great disposition towards Legilimency. They were immortal, near-indestructible killing machines.

And yet, Lord Voldemort had been able to eradicate an entire Clan of them in one day.

It had taken a lot of planning of course. Three full years of it, where he had studied all he could find about them, all the history books mentioning a massacre of a Citadel, creating the wards needed to strip the vampires of their powers to keep them unable to shadow walk, making amulets for all his followers to protect their minds against any Legilimency attacks, and of course forming a large enough army to do the works.

“What makes me so different from my family?” Harrison asked, looking at Voldemort with a strange expression. “All this meticulous planning, murdering everyone here except for me. Why? What’s so special about me?”

The Dark Lord realized the young vampire had read his mind, but instead of getting angry at the being, he let a slow, sadistic smile form.

“You aren’t,” he stated easily as he caressed the side of the bound creature’s face. “I simply decided to keep you. Call it a whim if you will. I might grow bored of you and kill you still.”

.              .              .              .              .

After ten years, Voldemort was not even close to growing bored of his little pet.

The vampire was his bed partner every single night and only ever left the room along with his master, a black leather and gold leash attached to the pure silver collar he always wore. It was imbued with  powerful Runes to keep the creature from using its abilities and to weaken its physical body to the point even an untrained muggle teen would be capable of subduing it.

After all, the Dark Lord had no intention to ever allow his most precious possession to get into a fight.

Currently, he was making his way through his castle towards his private rooms after having spent two long weeks in Spain, where his people were struggling to keep the upper hand over the rebelling masses under his new rule. They had succeeded in beating the people down in submission, but it had still brought them back many years in his plans for world domination, causing his foul mood at the moment.

Luckily, his dearest pet would be waiting in his private room. The vampire was excellent stress-relief, as the Dark Lord could do whatever he pleased to it and it would simply heal again quickly.

The swung open the doors, expecting to find his little vampire to be found in the front room, sitting by the large window and watching out to the stars that shone in the night sky. However, it seemed that this night, the creature was absent of the room.

Scowling, the Dark Lord strode over to the door leading into the main bedroom, a place the vampire usually avoided whenever he wasn’t dragged in there by his master, but it had no other place to be at all. There was the bathroom, of course, and the punishment room, but neither were places the vampire often went by his free will. Besides, Voldemort had locked those two. He preferred to be there when the vampire needed to be bathed or whipped.

“There you are,” he said when he found the vampire lying on the covers of the large bed.

The small creature blinked owlishly at him, its skin sickly, like a corpse instead of the sweet milky white it was usually. Its eyes too, were much darker and duller, making the Dark Lord frown a little. It seemed his pet was currently unusually listless. It hadn’t even glared at him or tried to curse past the bit gag it was wearing. He continued staring for a few moments before realization hit him and he chuckled.

“Are you thirsty, my pet?” he asked teasingly. “You haven’t had any since I left, after all.”

The vampire’s eyes slid closed again and it gave a barely discernible nod, making Lord Voldemort smile fondly at the creature. Slowly, the wizard approached, taking out his wand to cut his palm open. He flexed his hand a few times, making the blood flow out the small would before balling it in a fist and holding his fist over the small vampire’s face. A few drops of blood dribbled on the bit, causing the creature’s eyes to fly open again, now glowing brighter than usual, as they always did when it was being fed.

With another wave of the wand, the gag came loose and fell from the now hungrily panting mouth. In an instant, the being was on his knees, his hands clasping the Dark Lord’s wrist tightly as it dragged its long tongue over the gauge hungrily before pressing his lips to it and slurping down the life-juice its master was so graciously bestowing upon it.

“The moment I feel a hint of fang, I will not hesitate to pull them out,” Voldemort threatened calmly.

The vampire shivered and licked the cut again, but didn’t react otherwise. It didn’t need to. The warning was one Voldemort gave it every time it was being fed. It knew very well the ramifications of disobeying its owner. It had more than once pushed its boundaries and was intimately familiar with its Lord’s ire at this point. The vampire had mellowed down a lot. No longer did it openly rebel against its master, nor did it try to fight or escape. It knew what it could get away with and kept safely to those lines. It could glare and spit in private, where it did nothing but rile the Dark Lord up and excite him, but little more than that.

The Dark Lord moaned quietly and grabbed the vampire by its hair, wrenching its head away from his hand. The creature whined, but didn’t struggle. Instead, it licked its lips from the blood still clinging there to get even the last drop of the rich fluid gifted to him like fine wine.

“You’ve had your fill. Now I get my part,” the Dark wizard said, smirking down at the creature with a hungry expression.

The vampire swallowed audibly and glared weakly.

“You left me to starve for too long,” it muttered in a hoarse voice. “I won’t heal as fast as usually. If you act like usual, I will die.”

Voldemort simply laughed and grabbed his pet by the arm, throwing it onto the large, bouncy bed without care before undoing his own robes. The vampire was naked aside from the collar around its throat. It had no need for such things in here, after all.

“I know perfectly well what you can and cannot take, my sweet Harry,” the Dark Lord purred amused.

That said, he conjured a ring gag and pressed it into his pet’s mouth as it tried to speak again. Beasts like the little vampire were not meant to be left unmuzzled after all. Those pointy teeth weren’t there for aesthetics. Lord Voldemort may have tamed the beautiful creature, but a tamed lion was still a lion, and it could still kill even if its claws were filed down.

 


End file.
